Forever
by Kurtbert
Summary: FLUFF ALERT! My little deleted scene from Preggers from Burt's point of view I'm really bad at summaries . One-shot


A/N- Hi, everyone! This is my first ever published FanFiction! This is exciting and scary! I love Kurt and Burt's relationship, and this is a one-shot that takes place during "Preggers". I'll go hide now until I see you at the bottom.

Disclaimer- _Glee_ is not mine; if it was, Kurt would rule the world

The dresser is a one-way telephone, or, at least, that's what we call it. It smells just like her: the scent I've loved ever since the high school dances. It isn't just a perfume; it is mixed with a scent that is 100% Grace: slight lilac with honey and hints of baby powder. The dresser added barely a hint of scent, even it's age not daring to taint her memory. We never polish it, afraid that it will smell pine fresh instead of like _her_.

It hasn't been easy to let go. I still refuse to. I will admit, it hasn't been easy being a single father taking care of himself and his son on a mechanic's salary: especially when said son wants to spend half of it on designer clothes. Even then, I still won't let go. I can't. She was the strongest, sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, purest-souled woman anyone could've ever known. She always had an answer for everything, which is why I am consulting her through the one-way phone booth tonight.

I do this often. As I said before, raising a son, especially my son, without a mother is difficult. Whenever I've been confused or needed help with him, I'd always call on her, even if I knew she couldn't answer. The last time I'd "called" had been when I found his tiara collection in the hope chest bequeathed to him. I hadn't known what to do then, so I took his car away.

This time is different, though. I'm not confused, having known for 13 years, but I'm just not sure how to handle it being officially said. He'd come out to me tonight, looking small and intimidated. Why? Was he scared of _me_? He's the only thing in the world to me, did he think I wouldn't _love_ him just because he likes boys? Did I not prove these things well enough for him to be comfortable? That's why I'm here right now, Grace would know, she would've been able to understand him so much better.

Sure I took away the car and didn't let him wear his Cinderella costume out in public during his six year-old princess obsession, but I was only doing it with my best intentions. I still try and give him as much as I can. I let him buy all of those designer clothes that mean so much to him, even if it means having the wallet in the ICU more often than not. I let him wear that corset that he thought I hadn't seen as as he sneakily slipped out the door, even though I thought of all the consequences. I let him sign up for those dance lessons and glee club. I have to find a way to express all of this, how he is more important than oxygen to me. I bang my fist on the floor in frustration at my failed parenting.

Fate must be on my side because, at exactly that moment, the vibrations cause something small and light to fall on my back. The cover is a little dusty, but I still recognize it easily. It's her book, the one she'd read every night, even from her deathbed, until the skies became forever grey. I take the book and stand, her plan telling me what to do.

I find the lights off as I descend into his room. He isn't at the vanity where I last left him, which is slightly scattered with various skin-care and beauty products. I make my footsteps light as I approach the white bed where his lean figure can be seen cocooned in a down comforter. His back is turned to me, probably sleeping, but I still kneel down at his bedside next to his pillow. I move a stray hair back to its former perfection and listen to his breathing, a pattern I've known for 16 years.

"I love you forever, I love you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." I whisper the familiar phrase from the children's book, her book, into his ear. I put a hand on his shoulder and bring my lips to the back of his head, closing my eyes and inhaling the scent of his shampoo; lilac and honey, just like _her_. I stay in this position for a while until small tremors can be felt through the comforter. His breathing pattern becomes ragged as his eyes squeeze shut tightly, but it isn't enough to stop the flood.

I sit up on the bed and pull his shaking form closer as he buries his head into my chest, losing his composure for good. He wraps his arms around my torso, curling up in a ball to let me cradle him like a small child. I let him sob into my shirt as I rub small circles into his back, trying to find what triggered this reaction. Was it because it had been _her_ book I'd read from? Was it as simply tragic as a boy missing his deceased mother? Maybe, but today had probably been an emotional roller coaster for him, going through so much in such a short time. In one night, he'd gone through the most important moments of many others' lives. Maybe it was a mixture of the two.

I pull the blankets around us and rest my head on his, murmuring soothing sounds into his ear to try and calm him down. Slowly, his body stops trembling and relaxes more, his breathing slowing. "You are the only thing in the world to me," I whisper, "You know that, right?" This brings on a new flood of tears as he nods into my chest and tightens his grip around me.

It takes a while, but eventually the tears slow and his breathing calms down to its normal rhythm. His death-grip on me loosens to the point that it is just a hug. I can feel the fabric of my now soaking shirt sticking to my skin with his tears. His head rolls to the side so that his ear is pressed against my shoulder, using it as a pillow. He nods off, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I relax against the headboard, obviously not going anywhere anytime soon. I inhale a deep breath as one of the most important days of our lives dwindles to a close. I exhale, tilting my head to look up as I do so. I look past the ceiling at her and whisper at a volume no louder than a breath, Thank you." I owe everything to her for answering my call. All is perfect in this moment, holding our sleeping baby in my arms after settling all uncertainties about everything tonight. I don't know how she did it, though she was always magical. She had controlled fate to make tonight perfect, all the way down to the barely audible mumble coming from our sleeping little boy as he slightly shifted position.

"Daddy."

A/N-*comes out of hole* Hi! Was that okay? Reviews/critiques/comments are love!


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